The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them
by Julis Caesar
Summary: History of Magic is the least popular subject at Hogwarts. Perhaps there is a reason for that.


**Now.**

Nobody _likes_ History of Magic. They tolerate it, or they despise it, or they like the theory only to discover that the subject is the driest, dullest, densest topic available. But nobody, nobody, not even the ones who struggle through NEWT level classes, not even the very very few who go on to study the subject, actually like it.

It has occurred, mostly to Muggle parents of wizarding children, that this is not the optimal way to teach history.

It has not occurred to anyone that this is intentional.

**Then.**

To look at Nathaniel Rawlin's doublet, you could learn that he was following the pre-war style; to look at the embroidery on it, that he was of moderate wealth; to look at his soft leather boots, that he was in neither army; to look at the ink stains on the right shirt sleeve, that he was educated and not a little uncoordinated.

In short, that he was one of a number of young men who preferred to stay out of the war and focus on the rapidly developing field of philosophy.

This would not be an inaccurate summary, but it would be an incomplete one.

Up one sleeve is a long, narrow-bladed dagger; up the other is a wand, fourteen and one half inch, hornbeam and dragon heartstring.

**Now.**

It is not in the interests of the Ministry of Magic to encourage students to learn about history. History, say the Muggleborns, is irrelevant, it is our present and future that matters. History, say the purebloods, is mutable, the only certainty is what is now.

Headmaster Dumbledore says history is the story of how we came to be where we are, but looking too long to the past blinds us to the events of the present.

In quiet voices, the portraits of former Ministers for Magic talk about the dangers of history, how those with too much knowledge can use archaic laws to change the balance of power, how they can argue for the importance of anything they like, argue for the destruction of traditions, argue for the change of the norm, argue for the deaths of wizards.

So when a young student speaks up, to ask why history is taught by a wizard dead, whose lessons do not approach closer than the last four centuries, that student gets a half explanation, a partial truth.

The truth is not in axioms, no matter how much the living would like it to be so.

The truth is that they are afraid, and no longer know why.

**Then.**

The Reformation would have passed the wizarding community by, but for one thing. Wizards had converted to Christianity, but it was a sham, a fraud, playing at worship for their own protection. So to be asked to worship in one way, rather than another, was no great trial.

No, the problem was this: At that time, the oldest member of the Wizarding Council sat in the House of Commons. Claudius Malfoy, ancient head of the Malfoy family, supported the king and found himself on the wrong side of popular opinion as a wave of anti-Muggle and anti-monarchy sentiment swept through the younger generation, bolstered by the enthusiasm of King Charles in demanding taxes from a community who, technically, didn't exist.

Inevitably, a war broke out in the wizarding population as well, albeit a war along slightly different lines. On one side were the Loyalists, the older wizards, men who stood for the independence of small villages under direct control by the Wizarding Council, which in turn was under direct control of the king. On the other were the Determinists, a force of young soldiers who saw no reason why they should remain disorganized and easy to corral. They had grown up with unreasonable and unconstitutional taxes, and dreamed of an England where wizards ruled themselves, independently of any Muggle king.

And in the middle, the intellectuals, torn between tradition and idealism.

**Now.**

Any student who receives an Outstanding on any NEWT is invited to a luncheon with the Minister for Magic. It is an obvious recruitment tactic for a body that already employs two thirds of all adult wizards, but it works.

There are very few students who get Outstanding in History. Those who do well enough on their OWLs are quietly encouraged to take another path, perhaps Ancient Runes.

For those few, they find the luncheon fascinating. It is a politician bestowing favour on those they feel are beneath them, but more than that: During their brief, quiet conversations with the Minister, they gather that the Minister is afraid of them, often more afraid of them than of the students who got Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts or Potions.

There are a few among these few, even, who understand why.

**Then.**

When asked about his political inclinations, Nathaniel says he prefers neutrality. This earns him quiet nods from fellow Ravenclaws, and confusion from Slytherins. They want to know where he truly stands, they who have no understanding of neutral ground. The Ravenclaws understand him, best of all the ones who spent seven years sharing a room; they understand that he values knowledge above all but curiosity, and that he cannot give his alliance to either faction when neither is interested in expanding the boundaries of what is known.

This may be why the first person he goes to is a fellow Ravenclaw, Rufius Howe. They meet in a tavern, the same one where Nathaniel often debates philosophy with any who would care to listen. It is there that Nathaniel first proposes his plan, and it is there that Rufius writes strategies in glowing letters in the air.

They both had the same History professor, after all; they both think along the same lines.

**Now.**

Very rarely a student asks Professor Binns why he remained. The dead have a choice, after all, and for a ghost to remain with such clarity and focus, if on a single subject, he had to have had an extremely powerful reason.

If they pressure him, he will say it is penance.

**Then.**

Most wars cannot support three sides. One must falter and merge with the others, to form two opposing forces, matched in ideology.

Most wars.

Nathaniel understands wars as an intellectual; he understands how to start them, how to win them, how to maintain them. He knows that by creating a third faction, he is extending this one.

That is his plan.

He wants the wizarding community bleeding, wants them torn, wants them _desperate_, for it is in times of desperation that people are driven to the greatest heights, and it is those he seeks.

He is looking for the extent of magic, but he knows he must live to see that, and so his plans run deep and thick, twisting ropes leading from one ally to another, binding them all together. He must push people further than they wish to be, and so he must place himself in control, in order to have both the ability to push and the position to survive it.

He can be loved or feared, he has read Machiavelli, and he knows that love may be the safer but fear is the more fascinating. If they love him, they will do whatever he wants, but if they fear him, well… some will obey, but others will not, and it is _those_ that he is most interested in.

So he plots, and he schemes, and he pulls the threads together, and gradually he grows closer to his goal.

**Now.**

Professor Binns does not speak of why he remained after death, but if he did…

If he did, he would say a name, the name of the brightest student he ever taught, the name of a student who conceived of history in a way few others ever achieved, the name of a Dark Lord so feared that not only his name but his very _presence_ has been erased from the history books.

**Then.**

Even as the Muggles finish their war, Nathaniel is still escalating his. The Muggle political squabble had been advantageous for him, but not necessary. Having relative calm makes his own machinations even more fascinating, because he has to rely on his own ability to create fear.

The war has simplified to two sides, as he knew it would: the Loyalists, still, and his own faction.

The Imperialists.

**Now.**

Professor Binns sees them every so often. Students, clever young things, with a fire for learning, with an interest in the backstory. They enter ready to learn, filled with questions about the development of magical-Muggle relations and the Statute of Secrecy, and every time he crushes them. History, he says in his driest voice, no longer an effort after four hundred years, is about facts, not theories. Never mind that it is _precisely_ about theories, about arguments, about concepts. History, he tells them, doing his best to sound bored with the subject that infuses his veins, is not a matter for speculation. Never mind that the best historians do just that. History, he explains, knowing he bastardizes his subject with every word, is about the conflicts between wizards and sentient but wandless species. And it is that topic, and that topic alone, that he restricts himself to, for every class of every year.

Only on that topic, taught in that style, can he feel confident that he is not creating another Dark Lord.

**Then.**

Magical Britain had never known a ruler of its own. Villages were governed by a council, the head of which was deputed to the Wizarding Council when such a thing became necessary. There was no need for a centralized government, no need for any sort of country-wide organization.

This made it astonishingly simple for Nathaniel to take over. He planted a follower in each village council, structured his own organization such that each would then report to a higher ranked follower who would report to him, and sat neatly at the centre of a web that covered the whole island. Some villages protested, but it was easy to recruit young, disaffected wizards, train them in war magic, and unleash them on areas well away from their hometowns.

It was too simple, which was why Nathaniel started a spy network against himself.

That was also easy: the same type of young disaffected wizards who were so simple to recruit to work for him turned out to be simple to recruit to work against him, all it took was a bit of Polyjuice and he had an underground movement, anxious for action, educated but with no real sense of the world, rich, young, and impatient.

The result was, to his mind, delightful. Because he had recruited from the same groups, friends found themselves pitted against friends, remaining loyal out of nothing but honour, for there was no ideological difference to begin with.

With the younger generation in riot, the older found itself struggling. Many of them had surrendered under pretence, but now they were caught between the two factions and had to pick a side.

And through it all, Nathaniel sat, and watched, and learned.

**Now.**

Many first year students, not just those from Muggle families, come first to him, and then to the library, looking for the answer to the same question. Did wizarding Britain ever have a king?

The answer, Binns could tell them if he was inclined to do so, is no, Britain did not.

But it did, for twenty one years, have an emperor.

**Then.**

Nathaniel lounges in his new throne, watching the woman with interest. She is not the first to come looking for news of a son almost certainly dead, but she is the first to come with wand in hand. All the others were too afraid.

He says something that displeases her, he is not paying enough attention to tell what it is, and she fires a curse at him.

He already has a shield up, a spell of his own design. It traps her curse and holds it, long enough for him to stand, black robes falling around his feet, and walk down to where the curse vibrates in the shield spell.

It is an unpleasant curse, meant to remove the marrow from his bones. If it hit he would die, and it would be slow and painful.

He tilts his head and looks at the woman. With a wordless flick of his wand, he drops the shield spell and sends the curse rebounding back towards her.

She scrambles and pulls an Absorbent Shield up in time; it catches the curse and uses its power to make itself stronger. A clever tactic, especially for someone so without hope.

He smiles, and lets her go.

**Now.**

Once a year, the Headmaster comes to the History professor's rooms. He asks the same question every year.

"Are you ready to leave?"

And every time, Professor Binns responds.

"No, not yet, there are still more to save."


End file.
